Time seemed to have stopped entirely waiting impatiently for the weekend to arrive. Having to wait the better part of a year for our booking, the final few days had seemed the longest. Thursday evening had finally come around and I had finished work, car was loaded with the gear and the time had come for my redmire weekend to begin.
Images of what was, is and what could be had been in and out of my mind for many weeks. Stories, articles and videos all calibarated within my vague mind of the magical place redmire has now become. Known anglers such as Dick Walker and Chris Yates used to wander around the small picturesque pit for their prize and I couldn’t wait to set eyes on it.
Travelling down went without problem, average speed and roadworks delayed the journey slightly but the 2 hours or so seemed to go in a blip. I met up with 3 friends who booked on with myself for some needed breakfast and carpy chat. Before long I had my first glimpse of the water through some gaps in surrounding foilage. Setting eyes upon redmire gives you a buzz like no other the wait was over with anticipation and excitement running through my veins. It was more than I could ever have imagined a lake for end of January normally looks dead and void of life but it’s as if something keeps redmire alive every day of the year. The banks had a small amount of colour to them and it looked perfect.
Having parked up in the small makeshift car park at the dam end of the lake, we set off for a wander walking down towards open pitch and the shallows. Every swim filled me with excitement and the thought of the famous redmire commons that may be residing within them.
We drew pegs and I came out second to last. Thankfully one of the pegs I favoured wasn’t taken, so I jumped at the chance to go into “Evening Pitch”. Knowing I had deep water in front of me, it seemed a sensible choice knowing temperatures would drop and the lake was frozen just a mere few weeks before.
I hadn’t fancied the shallows as it was January and although mild the nights still had a chill factor about them.
I chose to fish small bright pop ups topped with fake maggots. I fished this inconjunction with small bags at different depths to try and single out a fish in the swim. With the lake being only 2 acres in size, I felt surprisingly confident as darkness decided to rapidly descend down on us. Temperatures dropped that night as you would expect for this time of year, so being in deeper water I felt fish would be close.
Morning came in a blur with no action on any rod bar a single bleep. Waking up on the banks of redmire leaves you in awe.
Peaceful bliss interrupted by the odd song from birdlife or in hope the sound of my clutch going into meltdown. Time effortlessly drifts away at redmire so much quicker than any standard session on the bank.
Waking up Sunday morning to motionless rods, time was not on my side and even with a slow pack up leaving it as late as i could the rods went back in the car as they came out resulting in a blank.
Leaving redmire without catching hadn’t bothered me in the slightest being on the banks fishing the same swims where carp fishing had been built on was enough for me and to have had the chance to create my own memories at a venue steeped in history being there was more than enough.
